Magic Chains 7
by BlueJuvenal
Summary: Morgan and James deal with a bout of Muggle slavery.  All characters are original, with concepts by J. K. Rowling.


**One**

James sat at his desk and closed his eyes. Lunchtime for most of the other agents meant heading to the cafeteria, running out for a coffee, or continuing work on assignments. James recently acquired the habit of putting both his feet on the carpeted floor and breathing deeply for a half hour every day of the week. He had his magical cousin, Morgan, to thank for that. Her memories, including those of her Auror psychic grounding training, beat with a pulse inside his head like a second heart. At times, her memories caused problems, like the time he dreamed he was in advanced Apparition training and twisted frenetically in his sleep. He almost kicked his fiancée, Jaime, out of bed. He recalled his director laughing at him during marksman practice, when instead of firing his Glock, he flicked it like a wand. Despite these episodes, James concluded the benefits of his bonding with Morgan outweighed the awkward remainder.

James had additional reasons for calming his mind this afternoon. Three young men in the county had gone missing in the past week. He had coordinated with the local police, but they didn't have any leads. The disappearances were well covered in the press, which put more pressure on James and the Bureau to resolve the mystery. The CSI unit failed to come up with anything, and so James decided to explore abnormal avenues in the hopes of making a breakthrough.

His cell phone buzzed on his desk.

"McBride."

"James, it's Morgan. I found something. Is it clear to pop in?"

James stood up and looked around the office. No one seemed to be in the immediate vicinity.

"Yeah, pop in."

In the middle of James' cubicle blossomed a swirling mass of emerald robes, and before James could blink, Morgan stood facing him. She glanced at the row of colorful liquids on his desk, all contained within corked, beer bottles.

"Clever of you, using old beverage glasses to store your potions, but you should know that the residual alcohol has most likely spoiled their properties."

James nodded and lowered his eyes. "I know. That's why I personally ensured the alcohol was completely extracted from each one."

Morgan smiled. "Can you clear the rest of the afternoon with your director? You'll need to come back to headquarters with me. There's someone I want you to meet."

James called his boss, and after obtaining consent, he grabbed hold of Morgan's arm and the two of them Dissaparated.

James and Morgan rematerialized outside Auror headquarters. A few witches and wizards flashed into existence as well, and they all walked to the rusty, cellar door at the back of the abandoned store.

"What have you found?" James asked as they made their way inside headquarters.

"I'm sorry to say Dark magic has played a part in your mystery. Thankfully, the three men are alive."

"Where are they?"

Morgan cleared her throat. "They are being detained."

James guessed at some point Morgan would elaborate on this statement. "Who am I meeting?"

Morgan turned a corner and almost ran into two rookie Aurors. Both abruptly apologized to her and timidly scurried away.

"My father."

James widened his eyes. He had vivid, extensive memories of Richard, Morgan's father. He would have to stop himself from calling him 'Dad'.

They entered Morgan's office. A stout, white-haired wizard in powder blue robes stood up and beamed at her and James.

"Welcome back, sweetheart!" He exclaimed merrily to Morgan. He looked at James with delighted interest. James smiled and stuck out his hand.

"Hi. James McBride." He stated discomposedly. He wasn't exactly sure where he stood with his uncle.

The wizard took James' hand and pulled him into a bear hug. James, with his nose close to the old man's head, was sure he smelled vanilla pipe tobacco. He felt a large hand pat him soundly on the back.

"Skip the formalities, son, and call me Uncle Rich. I can't believe how much you look like your mother! How is she doing these days?"

James straightened his shirt and cleared his throat. "She's hanging in there."

Richard laughed. "That's a nice ring you got on your finger there. Do you know it took me over a year to make it?"

James looked at the garnet ring on his right hand. He most certainly knew. He remembered his uncle stating this fact at least thirty times to Morgan. He found it funny that he was now hearing about it for the first time himself.

"No kidding."

Morgan laughed and went around to her desk. "The ring is actually part of the reason why you're here, James."

James folded his arms. Morgan sat down and leaned back.

"Our underworld informants have discovered something. .unsettling." Morgan and her father exchanged sober expressions. James discovered the first of their similarities. Morgan continued.

"Among a small group of wizards. ."

"A _very_ small group, mind you." Richard added. Morgan smiled unhappily.

"Yes, a very small group, there has been a market for domestic servants. As you know, James, elves have traditionally held roles as Wizarding helpmates. ."

"Slaves." James interrupted shortly.

Morgan bowed her head. "Yes. Uncompensated elfish servitude has been illegal in this country for the last hundred years, but recently other ideas have come into vogue among some Dark witches and wizards. With the elf population on this continent being exceedingly sparse, these magicians have found alternative ways of satisfying their desires."

Morgan paused and looked at James sympathetically. James watched the lamp on the wall behind her sputter.

"I have no idea where you're going with this."

Morgan looked at her father briefly and then raised her wand above her. With a small flick, she produced a revolving, transparent bust of a man. He had long, curly hair and a thick moustache.

"His name is Jasper Smith. He has served time previously for larceny, burglary, fraud, and illegal sale of magical contraband. Currently he is wanted for kidnapping."

Richard walked behind Morgan and put his hand on her shoulder. James vaguely thought of a time when Morgan experienced the same touch from her father as they were listening to a casualty report on the radio.

"We believe Smith captured the three young Muggle men and sold them into magical slavery." Richard concluded bluntly.

James stared hard at the father and daughter. For the first time, he experienced a harsh animosity for everything to do with the Wizarding world. He wanted to rip off his ring and smash it on the floor. Is this what witches and wizards did with their superlative powers? Magic, it would seem, did not improve the quality of life, but merely aggravated people's flaws. The spells, the wands, the robes, they were all better off stuffed away in a closet, allowing the rest of humanity to decide its own fate.

"Your informants told you this? Are you sure?" James asked with false composure.

"We're sure." Morgan appeared unnerved for a second before locking her eyes on her cousin. "James, we are doing everything in our power to apprehend Smith and liberate the Muggles."

James was not moved by her ingenuousness.

"Whatever you're doing it's not enough." He criticized coldly.

Morgan blinked but kept her chin level. "That's why we need your help."

James remained still and did not respond. Morgan calmly continued.

"I want you to consider an undercover assignment."

James scoffed. "You want me to be the bait?"

"You are young, in great shape, and therefore an attractive target for Smith. Once he makes his move we will close in and capture him."

James shook his head. "Sorry, Morgan, but I'm not real comfortable with the idea of being Imperiused."

"It wouldn't come to that." Richard said assuredly. "The Imperius curse wears out over time. We think Smith employs a magic identical to that implanted in your ring, only it works the exact opposite. Probably through the use of a pin or band, he guarantees permanent psychic subservience instead of psychic independence."

"And this is supposed to make me feel better how?" James asked testily.

"Dad is an expert on psychic defense. With his assistance, we may be able to subtly counter Smith's domination magic." Morgan suggested.

James looked at his garnet ring. "If I go along with this, I guess there's no chance of just wearing what I got."

Morgan shook her head. "Smith would recognize it immediately and smell an ambush."

James observed his cousin's serious expression. Her crescent moon tattoo twinkled lively in the firelight. She was a witch and he was a Muggle, and while the world projected onto this difference all sorts of flimsy qualifications, James understood, through his thoughts as well as hers, they were cut from the same cloth. They both sought justice, to put food on their tables, yes, but also to make the world a more livable place. James was offended at the idea of Muggle slavery, but he understood that Morgan was sincere in her determination to end it.

"When do you want this to go down?" James asked.

"Tomorrow night. All three men were regulars at Pauly's Tavern. We believe Smith waited for the men outside the bar. When he waits for you, we will be ready for him." Morgan stood up. "We need to head to the ops lab and prepare your countermeasures. Afterwards I will escort you back to the office."

James nodded and looked at Richard. His wispy hair and ruddy face spoke of dangers endured and joys rediscovered. James felt envious that his own parents were not more like him.

"My mother always told me the ring was just a family heirloom." James admitted.

Richard creased his face in a worn smile. He patted James on the shoulder.

"It is, son, it is."

**Two**

Morgan and Richard both flicked and prodded their wands at the small, silver ring on the wooden table. Morgan earnestly studied the ring as she enchanted it, allowing its shape to unfold in her mind. She told the ring in her head what she wanted to be done, and with each magical command, the physical ring on the table flinched and glowed red. She remembered the last time she collaborated with her father on an enchantment. They managed to enlarge Mom's birthday cake to over six hundred pounds before it collapsed under the weight of its own icing. The task today was less recreational.

Morgan glanced briefly at James. He was standing away from the table, arms across his chest, brows low over his blue eyes. He looked like he was watching two doctors operate on a patient. Morgan remembered when the doctors told James and his mother about his father's bypass surgery and the options open to them. His mother's hard face was perfectly designed for all serious and potentially grim conversations. James for the moment very much resembled her.

Technically and officially, Morgan didn't have to bring Dad into headquarters, but she wanted him and James to meet. They seemed okay with each other, and Morgan was immensely relieved. She was devising labyrinths for her cousin, one that could result in family alienation, and another that might lead to his loss of free will and possibly even his death. She knew she was selfish and reckless, but the goal she had in mind was noble and medicinal to those she was closest too; she wanted to re-connect the wires that once bound her family together. She wished her father to consider James as a son, since she considered him a brother. Morgan understood the fracturing was neither her fault nor her responsibility to mend. However, she believed there was at least an opportunity for her to try.

Morgan watched Richard frown and raise his wand away from the table. James stepped forward and stared at the silver ring; it had ceased glowing and shaking. He looked up at Morgan.

"What's the word, cuz?"

Morgan tucked her wand into the green folds of her robes. "It is ready. Before heading out tomorrow night, please place it on your right, big toe inside your shoe."

"What will it do for me?"

Richard turned to his nephew. "If you are psychically assaulted, the ring will counter the attack after a span of five minutes. This way, Smith or one of his operatives will not initially detect your resistance."

James picked up the ring from the table. Morgan stared at it.

"If by some chance you Disapparate or are otherwise transported, the magical transmitter inside the ring will broadcast a signal, which will allow me to Apparate to your location."

James put the ring in his pocket. Morgan looked across the chamber and saw two Aurors wave their wands at a clarinet, which began spewing fire from its bell horn. She took a deep breath; a large cloud of exhaustion spread through her.

"I'll take you back to your office, James, and call you later."

**Three **

Morgan opened the front door of her house and called out for Confessor, her husband. She did not get a response. She unfastened her cloak and let it drop onto the sofa. She saw on the coffee table a note from Confessor stating he had to run to the hospital and would be back later that night. Morgan admired his professional sense of responsibility. Still, it would have been nice to see him before she went to bed.

The front door opened again, and Morgan's daughter, Circe, ran into the living room. She saw her mother standing in front of the coffee table with the note in her hand.

"Hi, Mom. No Dad tonight?"

Morgan shook her head. "Sorry, sweetheart. It's just you and me for dinner. How was school?"

"Fine." Circe put her school bag down. "Sally was talking about Muggles again."

Morgan raised an eyebrow. She knew her daughter was feeling her out, seeing what boundaries she would set.

"What about Muggles, Circe?"

Circe contorted her body while looking at her mother with a straight face. "If James is your cousin, how come he's not a wizard?"

Morgan was not pleased with this question, but it at least gave her the chance to reinforce her interpretation of the facts.

"Don't you remember what Daddy and I talked about? Muggles and wizards are part of a family."

Circe sat down and fiddled with her shoelaces. "Sally was bragging how there were no Muggles in her family. Does the number of Muggles you have in your family affect your magic as a witch?"

"No, it doesn't." Morgan drew her wand from her robes. "I want you to understand something, Circe, something very important. Magic's real power lies not in its size, but in its effect."

Circe twitched her nose. "I don't get it."

"What if I was very, very magical? Would that make me good?"

Circe brightened up. "Sure! Magic is great!"

Morgan frowned and allowed the tone of her voice to shift. "Is it? What if I was very, very magical and decided to do this. ." Morgan flicked her wand at her daughter; immediately, Circe's eyes shut tight and her lips clamped together. "Or this. ." Morgan gave her wand a flick again, and Circe's legs began kicking up and down off the floor. Morgan waited firmly as her daughter writhed and desperately tried to speak through her sealed mouth. She recalled something James' mother once told him, something about discomfort being a great teacher. Morgan reluctantly conceded the woman at least got one thing right.

After a few seconds Morgan brought her wand down; Circe was released from her hexes and looked at her mother fiercely.

"Magic isn't so great now, is it, Circe?" Morgan asked gently.

Circe violently shook her head. "No!"

Morgan squatted down in front of her daughter. She looked into her round, brown eyes and was fascinated at how much she was reminded of herself.

"What if everybody treated each other this way? Would that be a good thing?"

Circe did not respond but sullenly looked at her mother.

"Wouldn't it be a great thing if everyone treated each other nicely?"

Circe nodded her head while looking her mother straight in the face. Morgan brushed her wand mildly at Circe's lap; in it, a small, pink teddy bear appeared. Circe picked it up and squeezed it. After a moment, she gave her mother a reluctant smile. Morgan smiled back.

"Now put your school bag away and we'll eat."

Circe stood up, grabbed her bag, and ran into the dining room and around the corner. Morgan straightened up and stowed her wand. She was so used to Confessor cooking she had no idea what was available in the kitchen pantry.

**Four**

James held his fiancée, Jaime, against his chest. He breathed in the sugary perfume from her hair, and rubbed his arm against the skin of her smooth back. Being with Jaime was like being on top of a mountain. Danger surrounded you on every side, but while you were perched on the peak, nothing else seemed real except your exhilaration. He caressed her freckled shoulder with his palm. Jaime shifted her weight and sighed.

"So tomorrow's another night of danger and magic. They should make a sci-fi show about your life."

James detected the dampness behind Jaime's dry wit. He patted her on the head.

"It's going to be rough, but it's something I have to do."

Jaime pushed off from her fiancée and looked at him.

"What do you mean?"

James rolled over onto his side of the bed and looked at the lumpy, ceramic lamp Jaime made for him. He found it funny that Morgan knew how he felt about it and never brought it up as the butt-end of a joke.

"These men gone missing. .they've been enslaved."

James heard Jaime spin onto her back and become still.

"That's awful. How long has this been going on?"

"I don't know. We're going to stop it and find the men."

James turned and looked at Jaime. She was staring blankly at the ceiling.

"It's a good thing I don't believe in conspiracy theories, or I would have a field day with this one."

"Morgan and Richard think it's only a few wizards who are into it."

Jaime turned to James. He liked the way her hair fell into her face.

"So what's he like, your uncle?" She asked.

James breathed out and smiled. "Compared to Mom, it's like night and day. I can't even believe the two are related."

"Do you think there's ever a chance they might make up?"

James looked past Jaime towards the wall. He tried to imagine hanging a family picture there, with half the group smiling and moving around, and the other half motionless like cardboard cut-outs. He laughed to himself.

"I don't know. I don't have the whole story."

Jaime leaned over and kissed him on his cheek.

"It might be a good idea to find out."

James kissed her on her nose and held her against him. He reached over and turned off the lamp and allowed the darkness to seep into his eyes.

**Five**

James followed Richard into the bar. The ring on his toe felt awkward, as if he had a pebble in his sock. The tavern was full of loud, laughing men and women. James saw two people stand up from the counter and walk towards a table. He sat on one stool and Richard sat on the other. They both ordered iced teas.

"Try not to look around too much. If Smith is here, he has already spotted us. It's best to act normal." Richard said.

James sipped his tea. "What if looking around too much is normal?"

Richard snickered and nodded. James tapped the brass edge of the bar with his fingers.

"Tell me what happened between you and my mother."

Richard fidgeted and put both his elbows on the counter. He looked at James.

"What do you want to know?"

James swallowed some tea. "When did she find out you were a wizard?"

"I think she always suspected. When the administrators from Salem showed up, her suspicions were confirmed. Mom and Pop were a little skittish about the whole thing, but they went along with it." Richard took a drink and looked at the line of bottles behind the bar. "When I first got to school I thought I was part of a really cool tree house gang, but then I noticed divisions. I took flack for being Muggle-born. I didn't understand what the big deal was, until I realized I represented a threat to some kids. If Muggles could make magic just like witches and wizards, what made witches and wizards so special?"

James thought of the many times Morgan was asked by her peers about her family's magical history.

"That's what makes it so tough for us." Richard continued. "At home, our Muggle families look at us like we're different, and at school, the wizards do the same. If you want to know, Rose was never outright mean about it. I think at some point she assumed she could never relate to me, and so she just stopped talking to me altogether. I tried a couple of times to speak with her, but she just brushed me off and ignored me. As I got on in school, I noticed Dark Wizarding circles form. These people really had it in for Muggles and Muggle-borns. I guessed at some point I would be a target, and so I decided to cast the two protective rings. I gave one to Rose, letting her know that no matter what she thought of me, I still considered her my sister. She didn't want it, but when I explained she could be in danger, she decided it might be a good idea to wear it."

James looked at his bare ring finger on his right hand. He missed seeing the garnet there.

"Mom gave it to me when I graduated high school. My friends thought it was a weird thing to wear, but I liked the look of it. It's funny, but I kind of feel vulnerable without it."

Richard smiled widely. "You'll get it back soon."

James finished his iced tea. "I'm going to hit the bathroom."

**Six **

Morgan swiveled on her stool at the end of the bar and nodded her head. Barry kept talking.

". .and so I said to the guy, 'Look, the ad for the fridge stated specifically three hundred, and I'm not paying another god damned penny.' Well, he came down off his high horse real quick."

Barry grinned smugly and took a long draft from his mug. Morgan did not want to encourage this man any more than she had to. She was here keeping an eye on her cousin, James, who was at the other end of the bar with her father. She was hoping not to draw attention to herself, but Barry spied her and decided to try his luck. Morgan was thankful she magically concealed her tattoo, but the next time she tried something like this, she would turn her hair a less conspicuous shade of red.

"Gee, Morgan, you don't say much. I kind of like that. Let me buy you another drink."

Morgan darted her eyes at Barry. "You know, Barry, I think I've had enough for right now."

"How 'bout just a soda?"

"Well. ." Morgan looked down the bar; James was gone. She took a deep breath. As she exhaled, she felt a tremendous vibration from her wand. She stood up.

"You're not leaving, are you?" Barry asked pathetically.

"I am, but let me give you my number. I have a pen right here."

"What kind of pen is. ."

Morgan twitched her swarthy wand against her hip, silently casting the Obliviation curse. Barry's eyes crossed inward and he sat back against the counter. Morgan strode over to her father.

"Come on. We're leaving. He took the bait."

Richard stood up, left money on the counter, and swore.

"He must have been concealed in the bathroom!"

Morgan led her father outside into the cold night. They headed around the back of the building, and made sure no cooks or servers lingered smoking cigarettes. Morgan saw the air stream out of her nose.

"Head home. I will contact you later."

"Be careful, sweetheart."

Morgan nodded and turned on her heel, Disapparating away from the tavern with a pop.

She spun around and faced a grimy, brick wall. She heard a police siren from the street. Someone to her left shuffled and stood up.

"What the. .?"

Morgan swiped her wand at the sound. She turned and witnessed a man fall stupefied onto the pavement. She swept her surroundings with her eyes. She was in an alleyway behind a tall, apartment building. She listened as a cat meowed and jumped into a waste bin. Directly above her was a fire escape. She held her wand in front of her nose and closed her eyes. In her mind, she saw the room where James was. She opened her eyes and cast over herself a Disillusionment charm. Waving her wand again, she levitated off the ground and floated up against the building.

Her heart beat quickly as she passed the tenth floor. She glanced to her right and in the distance saw the lighted form of the Brooklyn Bridge and the sparkling skyline of lower Manhattan. The wind was biting fiercely at her face, but she maintained her concentration. Her wand jumped excitedly in her grip as she came up to the twelfth floor. Through the window in front of her an electric lamp glowed. She gently pressed her feet against the metal grate of the stairwell and prodded her wand at the window. The latch clicked and the glass flew upwards. Morgan pushed herself through.

She planted her feet on an uneven floor inside a dingy kitchen. Dirty pots, pans, and utensils were piled in the sink. A man was singing in another room. Morgan stepped forward and the singing stopped. She froze as the kitchen door swung open, and she gasped when she saw James staring at her malevolently. A gold band was wrapped around his wrist. He ran at Morgan, and as he grabbed her throat, her Disillusionment charm melted away. She raised her wand, but James had a painful hold of her wrist. She struggled for breath and fell to her knees.

She saw behind her cousin a man with long, curly hair and a moustache enter the kitchen. He folded his hairy arms across his black robes and shook his head in delight.

"Hey, Bruno, what did you find in the kitchen? Looks like a cockroach! You better toss it out the window." Smith instructed.

James picked Morgan off the ground and slammed her against the window above the sink. She was horrified at his intense, enraged expression; he didn't flinch as he was sprinkled with pebbles of broken glass. Morgan dropped her wand in the sink and pushed with all her might against James' clenched fist. She felt her lungs rattle in her chest, and her cheeks bulge blue. Just one more second, she told herself, one second longer.

Suddenly, the pressure around her throat eased. She saw James' eyes soften. He touched his bloody face and opened his mouth. There was a movement behind him. He drew his Glock.

"Bruno, what's wrong?"

James turned around, took quick aim, and fired. Morgan heard the shots and saw the bright, red Stunning balls explode in front of Smith. He fell back spread-eagled against the checkered tiles. Morgan braced herself on the ledge of the window, and her head fell forward as she welcomed the oxygen into her tortured throat.

James helped her off the sink. He grabbed a chair from the table.

"Sit down. Dammit, Morgan, I'm sorry. ."

Morgan raised her hand and nodded. Her voice was raspy.

"My wand, James, in the sink. ."

She looked up and saw her cousin fish around in the filthy dishes. He examined the wand as he picked it up and then gave it quickly to Morgan. She pointed it at his face; his bleeding ceased. She next rested the tip against her throat and closed her eyes; the pain evaporated. She looked up at James.

"Take off the band."

James ripped the gold device off his wrist and twisted around. He stood over Smith. His enraged expression had returned.

"What do you think he'll get? Fifteen, twenty years?"

Morgan stood up. She felt her legs shake.

"James. ."

"It's not enough, Morgan, whatever he gets, it's not enough."

Morgan walked over next to James. She touched his arm. He faced her again.

"We have to make sure this doesn't happen again."

"We will, James, we will."

Morgan bent down over Smith, extracted the wand from his robes, and slashed it at him; clanking, metal chains wrapped themselves tightly around his body. Morgan knew Smith would never enslave another human being, but she experienced no relief or elation. She replayed in her mind the moment when James attacked her with his demonized face and his unstoppable clutch. She agreed with him; Smith would indeed not get what he deserved.

"After we book him we will breathe for an hour in our office." Morgan raised her hand as James started to say something. "Please do not argue. It has been a scary night, for both of us, and we need to air it out. There are other Aurors who will find the three men. Our job in this process is complete."

James stood still for a minute, and then nodded resignedly. Morgan removed from her pocket James' garnet ring. He took it and put it on his right hand. He smiled dimly.

"I was telling your dad how much I missed wearing this."

Morgan smiled dimly back. "Of course."

**Seven**

"You start."

James huffed. "What am I feeling? I'm angry that this guy ever had a chance to put his scheme into action. I feel wretched that I attacked you. I'm having a tough time getting the image of your threatened eyes out of my head. I remember doing everything, and even though it was only five minutes, I'm jittery at the thought of ever losing control again. I feel rotten that we as people place so many barriers amongst each other. I feel relieved that you are well, Smith is captured, the Muggle men are being liberated, and I am able to go home to Jaime and tell her I love her."

Morgan nodded. James gestured at her.

"Your turn."

Morgan breathed out. "I feel terrible that you were forced to assault me. I am frightened that a similar episode may occur again. I am beside myself with frustration that we can't lock Smith away for good. I am ashamed at myself for putting you in the position you found yourself in tonight. I feel guilty when I think of what the Muggle men had to endure while they were being controlled. I am disturbed that in so many ways, the safety of the world relies on normal people acting normally. I feel blessed that I can go home and snuggle with Confessor and Circe. That just about covers it."

James leaned forward in his desk. He spoke quietly. "It's not your fault, you know. I wouldn't blame you for feeling bad if you didn't do all in your power to stop it. But you did, Morgan." James watched the orange flame of the candle become still. "Thank you."

Morgan smiled. "Perhaps forgiving each other is the first step towards forgiving ourselves."

James nodded sagely. "Whatever you say, boss." He stood up. "Let's grab Jaime, Confessor, and Circe and find a diner. I feel like stuffed flounder tonight."


End file.
